


Blow out a Candle, light a Flame

by ineffablenerd



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon Asexual Character, Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Never Have I Ever, neck kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablenerd/pseuds/ineffablenerd
Summary: After not getting infected from a harsh mission, Zolf, Wilde, Barnes & Carter deserve some RnR. A game of Never Have I Ever turns into some heavy drinking and Zolf needs to make sure Wilde gets to his bed alright.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87





	Blow out a Candle, light a Flame

The atmosphere in the inn is energetic, bordering on manic. The kind of atmosphere that happens after three out of four Agents escape a mission by the skin of their teeth, new scars for everyone, and then have to sit in a cell for a week hoping that none of them got infected. The energy when they knew they weren't.

In the afternoon, Wilde had done the final checks through the bars, and then unlocked the door without a word. The stone mask of a face he wore whenever this procedure was necessary slowly retreating back and making place for a genuinely relieved, lopsided smile.

The four of them are now settled, crosslegged on the floor in a corner of the inn. Assorted bottles and glasses between them. Carter even shared some of his 'secret stash' that everyone knows about anyways. The rain had been especially harsh the last few days so the room had been empty, save for the innkeeper who had just given them the run of the bar and retreated into the night. They weren't guests here.

"If I never have to see another one of those goons ever again it will still be to soon.", Carter complains.

"Where do they even get them. Is there a factory some where? the Blokes and or Lads factory. Never, not once in my life, have I ever seen one of those goons and thought 'hey, he might actually have a personality'", Zolf ads, taking a big swig of his Whiskey.

"Cheers, I'll drink to that", Barnes empties his sake cup. So does Carter.

"Never have I ever thought about a goon twice.", Wilde chimes up, leaning back a bit, eyes closed, face towards the ceiling, chuckling at his own joke. His normally pale face was already flushed a bit, even though he'd probably had fewer drinks than any of them. When he looks back at the table, he sees the other three staring at him in confusion.

"It's a drinking game? Do you not play drinking games in the Navy?", he asks, mostly looking at Zolf.

"Normally we just drink. Why make a game out of it." Barnes grunts in agreement.

"Boring."

"How does the game work?", Carter seems very interested in making drinking a sport tonight, might as well get some rules in.

"Well you go in a circle, and you say something like 'Never have I ever done something', and everyone who _has_ done it drinks." Wilde's lopsided smile grows at the prospect of pretending the world had some kind of normalcy left. "Who wants to play?"

There is half-hearted nodding and grumbling from the two sailors and an enthusiastic, if already a bit wobbly, thumbs up from Carter.

"Great! I'll start: Never have I ever...", Wilde's eyes land on Zolf's arms for a moment, "gotten a tattoo."

Zolf scoffs and drinks, as does Barnes. No surprises there.

"Never have I ever, practiced my own signature." Zolf stares right back at Wilde. Who doesn't break eye contact as he pointedly does not drink. Carter does though, ears burning slightly, earning himself a small laugh from Barnes.

And so the game continues. They discover very quickly with what kind of question each one of them has to drink. They all had led very different and very specialised lives up until now and it showed.

"Never have I ever been impaled on a spike" Barnes directs it Carter, Carter and Zolf both drink. Such is the life of an adventurer or mercenary apparently.

"Never have I ever liked ordering people around" Barnes and Carter both drink, glaring at each other, Zolf doesn't. Neither does Wilde.

"More interesting: never have I ever liked being ordered around." this time Wilde drinks, a bit of his old smirk back. So do Barnes and Carter. What ever the relationship of those two, Zolf is glad he didn't have to negotiate it.

As the evening progresses they all get hammered. Zolf has a clear advantage in both his dwarven nature and the fact that there were some avenues of questioning they went down, that barely apply to him. He still got his fair share of drinks in him. "Never have I ever found this or that person attractive" "Never have I ever had sex in this or that place" No drinks for Zolf. He's had sex in _some_ places. Just not very many. It wasn't of great interest and importance to him. And most of his _experience_ was nothing more than just another way to pass time on a ship at sea. Wilde on the other hand, not only had to drink the most at these lines, but seemed to have the least capacity for this as well.

By now he is lying on his back, Legs still crossed under the small table, at some point his shirt had untucked itself from his trousers and quite a few of the buttons on his shirt had become undone. He's lifting one arm into the air, pointing at the ceiling obviously trying to focus on his next question.

"Never have I ever" the lilt in his voice is obvious, "...hmm" he had obviously lost his train of thought.

"Gods Wilde. You're fucking drunk. You need to go to sleep."

"No _you_ need to go to sleep!" Wilde turns his head to Zolf, eyes focusing very slowly. "'s nice here. Floor's very soft. Come lie with me."

"You're a goddamn paperweight Wilde. Don't suggest drinking games if you can't take a drink."

Wilde rolls his eyes. Then closes them. A familiar sight for anyone who has tried to make a room not spin so much.

"I won a lot" He sticks his arm up again. "Of _insight_ " his arm flops back down.

Zolf sighs and gets up. His legs creaking from the long lack of movement, but he does a few stretches and everything seems to work fine. He steadies himself, room spinning on him just a little bit, then resolutely walks up to Wilde and scoops him up. He thought about just throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes but that man was just too long for his own good. So he slings Wilde's arms around his neck and holds him in front of him like a folded up, very long child.

"I'm gonna make sure this one doesn't die on us. See you later." Zolf sends a nod towards the two others, but the evening is probably over. Carter has imitated Wilde in lying down on his back, and Barnes was very much trying to focus on _not looking_. "You guys should call it a night as well. Barnes, Can you take care of Howard?" Barnes nods, but doesn't show any intention to move just yet. This wasn't Zolf's problem right now.

He turns to face the door. Now he just needs to carry Wilde up the stairs. Good thing that man is so light. _Too light_ a voice in Zolfs head whispers _you should really make sure he eats more._ Zolf shakes his head to make the voice go away.

Wilde stirrs in his arms. "Why 'm I flying?" Wilde's face nuzzled against Zolf's shoulder.

"I'm taking you to your bed. You're drunk." Zolf tries not to let too much affection seep into his voice. At least Wilde probably wouldn't remember any of this.

"Finally." Wilde's voice is muffled by Zolf's shirt. He turns his head and tucks his face into the crook of Zolf's neck. "I've been working towards this for months."

"Sure you have, Wilde." Zolf's pulse has gone up. He must be more drunk than he thought, the stairs seems much longer, the hallway much more narrow than he remembered.

"You got something on your neck." Wilde's mumbling is barely audible, somewhere halfway from drunk to sleepy. He stabs a pointy finger where Zolf knows a small candle, charmed to have it's flame slightly flicker in the breeze, is inked under his skin, right underneath his ear.

"They're called tattoos Wilde. You've seen them before."

"'s a firehazard." And Wilde closes his mouth on it. Zolf almost drops him.

Zolf tries to focus. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. This couldn't be happening. Wilde was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing. Or what it was doing to Zolf.

Wilde also didn't _not_ know what he was doing. Apparently not satisfied with just kissing out the flame, he starts working his mouth down Zolf's neck, mixing soft lips, and barely scraping teeth. His hands, that were just hangin around Zolf a moment ago, are spread out across his chest and tangled in his hair. Wilde's lips now apparently found their destination just above Zolf's collarbone, where he sucks on it with the expert precision of someone trying to make a mark.

Zolf's hands turn white knuckled where he's holding onto Wilde and tries not to make the noise that's building in the back of his throat.

"Oscar" the name was meant to sound comanding but it comes out pleading instead. "This shouldn't... you're drunk."

"this is when I do my best work." Wilde's breath is hot against Zolf's skin when he talks. Zolf swallows hard. Just a few more steps on this never ending staircase. Just a few more steps until Wilde's bedroom. Just a few more steps.

"You don't want this." Zolf's voice is coarse with held back emotions. Wilde wants _something_ but not _him_. This would all be forgotten in tomorrow's hangover.

"You have no idea what I want." Wilde goes very quiet against Zolf's shoulder. His hand retreats from where it had been caught in Zolf's hair, back to limply hanging behind his neck. The other is still on Zolf's chest, but now scrunched into a fist, holding on to his Henley for dear life.

"I know it's not _this_." Zolf tried to keep the pain out of his voice. "Not some drunk mistake that you'll regret as soon as you have more blood than booze in your head again. You don't want _me_ Oscar, you're just drunk and I'm _there_."

Finally they reach the top of the stairs.

"You never call me Oscar." Wilde's voice is suddenly incredibly small. Zolf can only hear it because it's so close to him. Feeling the breath almost more than the words. "Why? You call Barnes and Carter their names."

"I..." Zolf is feeling very dizzy by now, and he doesn't know how much of it is alcohol, or something else. "I don't know. If you're Wilde, you're Wilde. You're an idiot and an ass. But if you're Oscar... I don't know if I can leave you alone out here to go on missions if you're Oscar."

"You really believe I would regret you." there's _hurt_ in Oscar's voice. Hurt pride?

"You just want me because you're drunk."

"Maybe I'm just too drunk to pretend I _don't_ want you."

Zolf stops in front of Wilde's door. Things didn't work like that. Wilde came on to everyone. It was just a thing he did. There was no direction or reasoning, just something to ignore. To hear him say words that in a normal circumstance would just be his usual tongue in cheek banter, so softly, so earnestly. It was too much.

Did Wilde know? Did he know that this situation was his exact dream and nightmare? How many nights Zold spent staring at the dark ceiling, wondering what could never be, willing himself to sleep only to dream of Wilde's hands on his body, of holding him close?

He opens the door with an elbow and carries Wilde over the threshold. It's pitch dark in here but Zolf's eyes don't care. In the darkness he dares looking down at Oscar's face, knowing he couldn't see the anguished expression on his. Wilde is looking right up at Zolf, eyes searching for the faintest bit of light. His expression is open, yearning, like he really believes what he had said.

Zolf carefully sits him down on the bed.

Wilde sways a bit but sits upright enough, staring straight ahead now that he doesn't now where Zolf is in relation to him anymore. Zolf casts spark on the candle on the bedside table and Wilde's shoulders relax a bit now that he can see again.

"You should take off your clothes, you're gonna feel even worse in the morning if you sleep in them" Zolf doesn't know if he should turn to leave or say something else. Wilde's shirt and waistcoat are already severly dishevelled but Wilde shows no inclination to move.

"Are you going to make me." It should have been the normal quip. The light innuendoes they were both used to. It wasn't.

"I'm not gonna leave here until you're properly in bed." Zolf doesn't know where to put his hands. Wilde's shorter than him sitting like this. So the angles are all wrong.

"Now that's not a motivation at all. What if I want you to stay?" Wilde's voice was all small again. It should have been the easy interaction they were used to. But the invitation hangs heavy in the air between them.

"Wilde... Oscar. Please." Zolf can't hold this back anymore. "I can't do this. I can't pretend this is fine. I'm not what you want. I can't give you everything like a normal person could." tears are stinging in his eyes now. He hopes the candle light is not enough for Wilde to see.

"I never asked for everything." Wilde's hands clasp together like they're stopping themselves from reaching out "I only asked for this. Please stay."

"I don't know if I can go back if I do."

"Neither do I." Wilde almost chuckles "Isn't that new."

"Please." Zolf barely knows what he was saying anymore. "please don't let this happen. We'll forget what we said in the morning or blame it on the hangover, but don't let me ruin this."

"I'm already ruined." Wilde stands up. The movement almost makes him lose balance. Zolf reaches out without thinking and steadies him, hands on his hips like a very strange dance. Wilde's hands come up, fingers almost trembling, and start unbuttoning his clothes. First the waistcoat, then the rest of his shirt. They're standing so close, Zolf can feel the backs of Wilde's hands brush past his beard, feel Wilde's arms lightly touch his, while Wilde is working his way down his own shirt. Zolf barely dares to breath.

Wilde's hands take seconds, maybe hours, to finish their work, then fall back to his sides, so close to where Zolf is holding on to him. Zolf's hands move on their own accord now. Brushing up Wilde's chest leaving goose bumps in their wake, then brushing the open clothes off his shoulders, letting them fall to the floor in a crumpled pile.

Zolf realizes he hasn't breathed in a while and when he does, the fresh oxygen mingled with Wilde's scent of Teakwood and lavender doesn't help one bit. This isn't peaking over the edge anymore. He's in free fall and he doesn't know which way is down.

"What now?" Wilde's voice sounds as cracked and dry as Zolf's throat feels.

"I'm alread ruined." Zolf doesn't know if he repeats Oscar's words out loud or if he breathes them in. A small shield in defense against all his fears at once.

He pushes Wilde, just slightly, and he sits back down on the bed. Before he can even look up, to say something, anything, that would make this even worse, Zolf's lips are on Wilde's. Soft for just one second, then the dam breaks and he presses on to him. Hungry, drunk, reckless like sailing a ship that's already sinking. Wilde responds in kind, twisting them so they're laying on the bed. Zolf is straddling him, the weight of his chest on Wilde's the only reason he is still grounded to this earth.

Wilde tugs at his shirt and Zolf raises his arms, raising himself up for just a second so Wilde can pull the shirt over his head.

_closer_

That's all he wants.

Wilde's hands are almost clawing into Zolf's back now, pulling him in more and more. And Zolf forgets where his skin stops and someone else begins. His hands run along Wilde's body making him shiver, in responce Wilde's mouth trails away from Zolf's lips and along his cheek bones, across his jaw, back to the candle tattoo, breathing the light back into it, like he kissed it out before. Then he sinks his teeth into the crook of his neck. This time Zolf doesn't have to stifle the sound his throat begs him to make. A breathless moan, a silent curse.

Their kisses turn breathless, as the turning room catches up to them. Their movements get slower, as reality sets back in.

Breathless, falling through a spinning room and back into themselves they hold each other. Wilde's breathing turns regular and light as he curls up into Zolf's chest.

"Never have I ever fallen for Oscar Wilde." Zolf breathes into Wilde's hair. Then drinks in the scent of him. He places a small kiss on his forehead, filling it with a Cure Poison and letting the magic of Hope flow through him.

Tomorrow the world will swallow them whole again. But not tonight. He's allowed to be enough for one night.

**Author's Note:**

> Neck kisses are my Cryptonite. I'm seriously considering getting a Candle tattoo on my now, even if mine won't be magic.
> 
> Edit: I'm so sorry for making the impaled question a thing.


End file.
